


All I Ever Wanted

by Irma7x



Series: Enjoy the Silence [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mentions of Injuries, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-TRoS, Reader-Insert, Senator! reader - Freeform, Smut, TROS Fix IT, marriage in secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irma7x/pseuds/Irma7x
Summary: Taking a shot from Allegient General Pryde had all been part of Hux’s master plan of revenge at Kylo Ren’s rule of the First Order and his escape ticket from an organization he no longer felt part of. He had been prepared to take the shot, but Pryde’s blaster fire had been more potent than expected. He’s barely hanging on as he makes his way to your home in Corellia in an escape pod. Will he survive? Will he be able to properly start his life with you, whom he had married in secret?
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s), Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You
Series: Enjoy the Silence [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700536
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, another Hux/Reader fic! I must say I had had the scenes that make up this first chapter in my head ever since TROS came out, and I had been wanting to write them down but I guess I still hadn't had the guts to start writing Hux/Reader. Tbh I didn't think there would be much of an audience for it so it discouraged me a little bit. Nevertheless here it is! and this is just another entry into a whole little universe I have planned for these characters, so I'm excited to embark on this adventure!

“My lady!” 

You jolt awake at Ceera’s shouting; moving in autopilot before you can even fully wake up. 

You must’ve fallen asleep mere minutes ago; all afternoon, a nagging feeling in your gut had been troubling you, made tangible now at the urgency of your housekeeper’s tone. 

“My lady, quick!” 

“What is it!?”

“A pod has crashed in the estate--some sort of, First Order escape pod!” 

Ceera needn’t say more. 

You race downstairs and into the expanse of the back gardens in your family estate in Corellia, where you’re confronted with a dreadful scene: bits and pieces of durasteel consumed by flames, dense clouds of smoke hiding the figure that was crawling along the grass, away from the debris.

With squinched eyes you’re barely able to see disheveled ginger locks; your mind blank as you rush towards him while yelling at Ceera, “please go call Dr. Frederik and come help me bring him inside!” 

“Yes, my lady!” 

You kneel to cradle Hux’s skull in your lap. His eyes, his beautiful eyes, now lifeless, and there are wounds oozing blood from his chest and thigh. He tries to breathe but his throat is raspy -- the strain exhausting him so much that he was struggling to keep his eyes trained on you. 

“ _My love, my love, my love_ , what happened!?” Your heart clenches at the sight of his trembling hand trying to grab yours, at his eyes that are now fluttering closed. Nausea washes over you when you dare think of your husband dying in your arms. 

“CEERA!” 

Hux’s eyes roll back as his form falls limp against you -- thankfully Ceera rushes to your side just in time. 

“Help me carry him to one of the guest rooms! Can you grab his feet!?” 

“Yes, lady (Y/N)!” 

Ceera holds on to his legs while you arm yourself with strength to try to lift his upper back. Hux was thin overall, but he was tall and hid plenty of lean muscle under his uniform, making it a strenuous task to carry him all the way to your guest bedroom on the furthest wing of the house. Harder still, for you lived all alone with young Ceera as your only companion, since you were the very last of your bloodline. You prayed to whoever might be listening that Hux’s condition wouldn’t worsen for a lack of people to help. Time was valuable in moments like these after all -- a mere second able to make a difference between life and death. 

It seems like a miracle when you finally reach the room, with Ceera hurrying to place a pillow below his knees while you lower him down to the bed; but as you do so, a guttural groan like you’ve never heard from him escapes his lungs as pain radiates from his back and chest, making his back contort and arch in agony. 

“What is it, darling, what is it!?” 

“C-can’t breathe...my _back_!..” 

“Shhh, the doctor will be here soon, I promise, my darling, just stay with me please, please stay with me” 

“(Y/N)...” 

“I’m here, my darling, I’m here…” You keep on talking in a desperate attempt at keeping him conscious. You grasp his hand with all the love you could possibly transfer with your hold alone, anchoring him to this planet, to you. This is exactly what you had been fearing, the root of your insomnia: Hux, collapsed on his dying bed. 

"Hux!? Hux, stay with me please, please!” You urge, you beg, and you don’t even notice you’re crying until your blurry eyesight impedes you to see him...his figure seems to vanish, turning paler and paler by the second, his hold on your hand a faint graze now. 

“Hux!” 

_No, no, no_ , this couldn’t be happening. 

“Lady (Y/N)” The doctor’s voice cuts through your wails -- _finally!_

“Hurry, doctor, please!” 

Frederik Tarwin was a pediatrician but had remained the family doctor through the years. He looked just as you remembered from when you were small; with his robust, jovial form, white hair and eternally rosey cheeks. 

“(Y/N)...is--is he? Is he _General Hux_?”

“Yes. You _cannot_ tell anyone, just-- _please!_ ” 

You trusted him wholeheartedly. For one, he had never spoken about any political inclinations -- had always remained neutral throughout the conflict. Doctor Frederik was the only one you trusted with discretion, and above all, he had proven himself to be excellent in his profession, having saved several of your family members from near fatal illnesses, including _you_. You wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for him, so if you were putting Armitage's life in anyone’s hands, it was on his. 

“Okay, (Y/N), but you will have to wait for me outside.” 

“Doctor, no--”

“(Y/N), _Please_. Do as I say.”

You yearn for your husband as you regard him, lying atop the sheets that have now been tainted with filth and blood; you’re compelled to lean in and kiss his fevered temple, whispering against his skin, " _please don’t do this to me, Armitage, don’t leave me_.”

But he doesn’t open his eyes and you _mourn,_ for you couldn’t catch one last glimpse at his gorgeous eyes in case...in case something you dare not even think of, could happen. 

\---

The images and voices keep replaying, over and over again, so vividly that you don’t know if you’re dreaming, or actually reliving last night’s affairs. 

_“(Y/N)”_

_Dr. Frederik’s voice cuts through the tense silence that surrounded the hallway where you were left waiting. Ceera had left you in order to prepare a set of clean pajamas, underwear, towels and linens for Hux for when he’d wake; the young housekeeper knew how Master Hux preferred his things freshly laundered and crispy from the dryer’s._

_"Yes!? How is he, doctor!?”_

_“He’s fine--”_

_“--Oh, thank the maker!” you couldn’t help but sob in relief as the biggest weight had been lifted from your chest. “I’m sorry! Do go on, I’m sorry, Doctor. What happened?”_

_“It’s all right, (Y/N). He’s going to get better. He took a blaster-shot to the chest; he was wearing a bulletproof vest but the shot was powerful enough that it penetrated the fabric of the vest. It only grazed his skin, but the impact was what got him: he had a fractured sternum; he was also shot on the leg, the wound appeared to have been treated earlier on with bacta but during the course of events it got infected. He had been recently operated correct?”_

_“Y-yes…” you can barely keep up with Doctor Frederik’s diagnosis, your head is swimming trying to place the details together. How could he have made it through? What in all the heavens had happened to him? “Yes, he was operated recently for a herniated disc. An old injury.”_

_An old injury, indeed. One that had been aggravated during the course of Kylo Ren’s rule as Supreme Leader. Hux had always struggled with back pain due to years of maintaining a straight posture despite the physical abuse inflicted by his father. Then comes Ren, who had taken a sick liking to throwing and kicking him on the very floors of Hux’s_ own _ship. You had wanted to murder that man yourself when you had found out that Hux had been admitted to the emergency room after one particular dispute._

 _“Well, a fall like the one he took did nothing but worsen an already tender wound. There’s major internal bruising on his spinal area. I’ve given him a shot and wrapped the entirety of his torso in a bacta-cast. I’ve also redressed his leg wound. With the quality of the bacta I’m using his recovery will be relatively fast, a week at most. I’ll leave the rest of the medicines he has to take with Ceera. Soft foods only and lots of fluids. Make sure he_ sleeps _, (Y/N).”_

_You were spiraling in a daze with all of the information and were infinitely grateful that the Doctor was to leave the detailed instructions for Hux’s care with Ceera, because in that moment, your mind could only zero in on the fact that he was alive._

_“Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” He smiled, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. You had always felt comforted by Dr. Frederik with the simplest gestures -- he was like another grandfather to you. In his eyes, you were still that little girl that feared shots but burst out in giggles when given candy afterwards._

_“He will be fine. Take care of him -- of both of you. Oh, and (Y/N)...” He added before descending the stairs. “Congratulations.”_

_“Thank you, Doctor.” You grinned with flushing cheeks. Dr. Frederik must have caught a glimpse of your ring, which you had retrieved earlier from its little black case. Your marriage had been a secret, only Ceera knew of it; you never wore your ring as a form of protection, but in those moments you needed any tiny piece of comfort you could get._

Your eyes open but the echoes of Dr. Frederik’s voice still ring inside your skull. You blink the fogginess away yet the headache remains, and it’s embarrassing how long it takes you to realize that you had slept with your upper body draped on the bed while remaining in a sitting position.

But then you _feel it._ Beyond the ache in your neck, the stiffness in your joints, there’s a light, pleasant warmth on your hand; pale fingers intertwined with your own, a thumb caressing your knuckles -- passing over the wedding ring you now wore. 

You look up with caution, fearing that you might be met with a ghost. The diffuse light filtering from the drapes paints a heavenly picture of him: a softened figure resting on the bed; bare, save for the dressing of his wounds; ginger hair with golden hues and eyelashes made even paler by the sun rays caressing his skin.Your heart sank to your stomach at the sight -- _is he really here? Did he survive?_

His familiar, impish smirk is your response. 

“My darling…” You sob as you straighten up, disregarding your throbbing muscles. 

“Come here” Hux pats the place beside him on the bed. 

“I’ll hurt you. You’re severely injured, you need to rest--” 

“-- _No_. It’s fine. Come here” His voice is ever so soft for all that pain. You had never seen him like this -- so utterly broken down. It shattered your heart to pieces. 

You gingerly hop on the bed, hyper aware of the dreadful cast that encompassed his entire torso. He lifts an arm for you to nuzzle in your head on that dip between armpit and chest; you lift a palm, wanting to rest it upon his side but stop midway in fear of hurting him -- though he notices and takes your hand, squeezing it before laying it right above his heart. 

“So was this part of your master plan? The one you had been hiding from me?” 

“Yes.” You feel his laboured breath and immediately regret the incoming spam of questions. But you _had_ to know. 

“Well? What happened?” 

“Didn’t the doctor tell you?” 

“Only the nature of your injuries. Nothing more.” 

“Well. I was shot. By that bastard, no less.” 

“Kylo?” 

“No, Pryde. I expected he would, I had been prepared for days. Underestimated the quality of his blaster though -- pierced right through my bulletproof vest.” Even in his state he sounded totally indignant, scoffing at the poor quality control of First Order equipment, as if he hadn’t just skipped death. 

“You could’ve _died._ ” 

“But I’m here now, aren’t I? It’s over” 

“Is it really? Is it all over?” 

“I don’t know what happened after I escaped. Truthfully, all I wanted was to see Kylo Ren lose. I had stopped caring about one band or the other a long time ago. But as I made my way here on that blasted escape pod -- which malfunctioned halfway through, _thank you very much_ \-- I realized I didn’t care if he won or not. I didn’t care about any of it. All I wanted was to be free.” 

“You could’ve _died_.” 

“I’m here now.” 

You shake your head, unable to comprehend how he can appear so calm. He was all you had in the world and you almost lost him. Before you know it there are scalding tears running down your cheeks at the fact that he’s here beside you -- that your ear still hears his beating heart and your palm still rises and falls along his intakes of breath. 

“Hey…” He searches your eyes but they’re shut in a feeble attempt at hiding your tears. If he could move a little bit more freely, he’d wipe them all away -- _kiss them_ all away. “Darling, it’s okay…let’s just sleep, what time is it?” 

“ _You_ stay here and sleep -- I’m gonna hurt you, you know how I move about in my sleep--” 

“-- _(Y/N)_ ” 

“No, no, no. You have to get well.” You pull away but he moves to stop you, ignoring the stabbing pain that shoots through his arm as he lifts his hand; he hisses as he cups your jaw, disregarding the pain in favor of touching your soft skin at last. 

Your faces are so close he has to go cross-eyed to look at you, thumb gently tracing your cheek, your bottom lip...he gazes at your tired eyes with such a deep, deep sadness within him for having caused you so much distress. He _knew_ , knew that he was to blame for your lack of sleep. But he could not tell you, otherwise you would’ve tried to stop him, placing yourself in danger. 

And that was something he just could not bear. 

Throughout his life he had been stripped from everything that had once mattered to him. If he lost you...if he lost you because of his own reckless plans backfiring on him...he could never live with himself. 

Suddenly his wrist seizes with a sharp pain that makes his arm give out completely. 

Your eyes fill with regret at having lost such contact and it _shatters_ him, but then -- you _precious_ thing -- you nuzzle your head close to his just like a kitten would, and his heart _soars_ with tenderness, soars right out of his ribcage. He responds by nudging his head against yours, basking languidly in your intimacy. He settles his cheek at the top of your head and breathes you in, so deeply, as if your scent was a healing balm to his tired lungs. 

“You go to sleep, my darling...it’s still too early to be up” your breath is a wonderful tingle against his neck -- one of his most sensitive spots; it travels all over his body, right up to his toes. If he weren’t so fucked he would be taking you right then and there. 

“Stay with me...” 

“Hux, you--” 

“-- _Stay_ here…” he faces you then, imploring you with his doe eyes, murmuring right against your lips, not yet kissing. He could sense it though; your resolve, breaking at the sensual contact, at the tease of his breath fanning against your mouth. How long had it been since you had kissed? 

You couldn’t resist Hux’s beautifully puffed lips. 

“Stay here...” 

You had always swooned over how he tended to whistle unintentionally when he pronounced the letter “s”, especially when he whispered-- _especially_ when he whispered right against your ear. “Stay here…” 

You tremble at his gentle command. Your General, still in action regardless of his condition, of the setting. Your answer is a confident kiss, one that makes the both of you melt right into the bed. It tastes of peace, and heaven, and _relief_. 

To you it tastes just like Hux, of that indescribable flavor that was simply his. It tastes of joy at the fact that your husband is _alive._

You make up for the fact that he couldn’t hold your face like he wanted, cradling his face in your palms, guiding his mouth to take yours deeper, all the while tracing over his strong cheekbones, his soft jaw. He was a world of contrasts, of sharpness and smooth lines that told the story of him: of a hardened General that remained that delicate Arkanisian boy underneath. 

You kiss, kiss, kiss away, long into the late morning, until sleep shall take you again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut ahead, oh yess. Smut that had been totally unplanned and made the chapter get a little longer than expected which is why this fic will have three chapters instead of two <3

It’s an unusually clear day in Coronet, the capital city of Corellia. Usually clouded with braze coming from the ship and durasteel factories, the early morning greeted you with pale blue skies and fresh air. You close your eyes as the breeze envelopes you, as you stand on your room’s balcony overlooking the Corellian seas. It had been a hectic week accompanied by tedious weather, so to finally have time for yourself and _breathe_ soothed you entirely. 

Your family estate already felt more immense as you had been moving up your possessions all week. The echoes resounded with more strength as the house hollowed out progressively. Some things you sold, others you left in the house for Ceera to do with as she’d please. But your things -- Hux’s as well as your own -- those you had moved to your hideout home in Arkanis. You had never been a decent pilot, but at least you knew your way between Coronet and Arkanis; all week you travelled back and forth, making sure that nothing was missed and all was ready for your arrival. 

So immersed in your reveries were you, that you thought the sneaky fingers lightly tracing along your waist were a trick of the wind inself, until the touches became warmer and warmer, Hux hugging you from behind. 

“I’m all healed up. Dr. Frederik just left, he sent his goodbyes -- he had another appointment to run to.” 

“You’re in the clear now?” he couldn’t see you but the news painted a bright grin on your face. You had followed Dr. Frederik’s instructions to a point, cleaned and re-dressed his wounds, gave him all the shots and pills in the correct time-frame. And did he sleep -- did Hux sleep like he never had in decades; dreamless, uninterrupted, repairing sleep. 

“All better. See?” He extends his arms and puffs out his chest, freed from his cast and instead wearing a cozy, black sweater -- the sight of him in civvies was always such a welcomed novelty -- finally able to move about without strain. 

“He did mention that it might be a while before I can engage in any rigorous physical activity, and that if I get tired from standing up too much it might help me to get a cane to support myself. Other than that, I’m fine.” 

“Excellent! Look at you, as good as new” You look at him and his pleased smirk -- never a full on grin on that man -- while you gently stroke your palms over his torso, as if wanting to assure yourself that all of his previous restraints were truly gone. 

He simply watches you transfixed at the way the sunlight caught on your hair -- a resplendent vision amidst the urban landscape. He still struggled to formulate words, to name feelings that were too loud yet to abstract in his mind, all involving you. But you knew this, and you never pushed him; his eyes spoke volumes when his voice failed him, and to be the target of that smouldering gaze was enough to have your heart skipping beats.

“Everything has been arranged. All of our things have been moved to Arkanis. What do you say? Today looks like a good one to move, the weather has finally calmed” 

“Yes, today is perfect. It’s going to be shit in Arkanis when we get there anyway.” 

“Asshole!” You felt triumphant everytime you managed to make him snicker -- especially the kind where he’d throw his head back as he laughed. He bit his lip trying to contain his giggles -- if only he knew how much you loved the way his smile illuminated his entire face.

“Thank you for everything. I know how tired you are.” 

“It’s been mad,” He still hadn’t revealed what went down before he crashed and you had let it slide to let him rest. You were beyond grateful that he had been saved but, once you reached Arkanis he would have another thing coming. “I’m just glad to have you in one piece.” 

He hums in agreement before whispering, willing the air to carry the secret of your relationship away into the horizon as he embraced you. “We’re going home.” 

You turn in his arms to regard your homeplanet one more time. Memories of love, growth and tragedy flash through your mind as you think of Corellia, of your family estate that was now but a mirage of what it used to be when your family still lived. But you dare not let your thoughts wander into those waters, you look up instead. You have your best friend and a new life ahead. “We’re going home.” 

**\---**

It’s a balancing act to descend down the grand staircase of your home. You’re pulling at your suitcase with one hand, supporting Hux’s weight on your other side as he struggles to walk while carrying his own luggage. It feels like a whole trek, so when you make it to the bottom at last, you take a moment to drop down your things and recover yourselves. 

“You okay?” 

Hux wheezes out a breath and leans more heavily against you -- with one arm around your shoulders and the other coming to grab your shoulder, forearm across your chest. 

“...I’m fine,” he shakes his head as if trying to cover up how winded he really was. You chuckle internally at that as you stand still, letting him drape himself over you. 

Meanwhile, Ceera comes in from the front double doors of the estate while holding an orange, fluffy bundle in arms. 

“All is ready for your departure, Lady (Y/N), Master Hux. I’ve just loaded the last of your suitcases -- want me to carry those as well?” 

“If you would be so kind, Ceera. Thank you.” 

“Shall we exchange?” she smiles as she offers up the bundle for you to carry while you detach yourself from Hux to hand her the luggage. 

“Hey sweetie” you coo at the little tabby cat. Millicent was Hux’s; you had found her in an alley in Canto Bight a few standard years ago now, when you and Hux had had a secret getaway to celebrate Life Day together. The kitty had instantly attached to Hux, who had revealed himself an enormous softie in front of the creature. Given how he could not return to the FO with it, he had begged for you to keep it. Now Millie would be heading out to have a home with both of her parents. 

“All ready, my lady?”

“Yes, I think we are,” you take a moment to regard Ceera. She was still so young, only 19 years old, the oldest daughter Kataline, the previous house-keeper who had retired right after your family died in that mass bombing at the hands of the blasted Resistance -- said that working on the empty house felt too daunting so she had sent a teenaged Ceera instead. You were grateful for her service throughout all those years, but most of all you cherished the bond you had formed. 

You had lived in Corellia for most of your life, but you had moved here from a young age with your family from the planet Fest. Ceera was a Festian like you, but had lived there longer, just until Kataline had called upon her to be her replacement. Amidst all the Imperial finery you had known, Ceera talked to you about your culture, the traditions, your history. You and Ceera shared the same skin and eye color, the same Festian blood and feist within you, so it had been natural that beyond her post, she had become a friend. 

“Thank you for everything, Ceera. This house is now yours, do with it as you please. I will not be coming back” you place your hand atop her shoulder, trying and failing to contain your tears when you see her own watery eyes. “I will miss you so much, my dearest friend. Take care of yourself.” 

“I will, my lady. You too” 

“No more “my ladies” ever again. Call me (Y/N).” 

“Take care, (Y/N). We’ll keep in touch.” 

“That we will” you both move towards each other -- you pause for a second to hand Millicent to Hux, to fully embrace your friend one last time. Hux comes up and places an arm around your shoulder in comfort, while kindly regarding Ceera. 

“Thank you for everything, Ceera. (Y/N) and I will forever be in debt to you. You know where to find us if you ever need anything.” 

“Yes, Master Hux, I appreciate it. Have a safe trip! May we meet again in the future.” 

Hux nods and turns to look at you before placing a brief kiss to your temple, his own way of signaling that it was time to go. You exchange one last melancholic look with your friend and then she’s stepping aside, letting you through the tall double doors and out where your ship was stationed, already on and warming up its engines.You don’t look back as you hop into the craft and engage for take off. 

Off to Arkanis you were. 

**\---**

Hux, as always, had been absolutely right. It’s pouring rain when you land and you dread the task of carrying all of your luggage to the stairs that led up to your cottage. Your home is a two-storey building made of wood, located on the outskirts of the nether forests of Arkanis at the top of a mossy hill, camouflaged amidst the greenery; the stairs that led up to it were steep--extending along the entirety of the hill-- and slippery as they were of stone instead of wood. Which is why from your spot, parked on the landing pad at the bottom of the hill, the thought of climbing up and down with the rain is a nightmare. 

“I told you” Hux has the most terrible grin on his smug face beside you on the co-pilot seat. 

“Oh don’t be such a smart-ass” 

“I say we stay here until the rain stops, it’s going to be impossible to carry our shit up like this.” 

You slump your head against the pilot’s seat, you’re just so tired -- the stress having finally registered, washing all over you at once like the downpour outside. All you wanted to do was get the unpacking done and sleep, but now you were stuck within the compressed cockpit of your ship -- Hux snickering when you grumble. 

“Hey, don’t be sad. There are plenty of things we can do to pass the time until the rain stops” You think he looks ridiculous, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Oh, no way. Here!?” And his grin gets wider, like the loth-cat that got the cream. _“Where!?”_

He excitedly pats his lap in response. 

“Didn’t the doctor tell you “no rigorous activities”?” 

He extends his leg, hooking his feet on your seat, swirling you around to face him. He sits up and leans closer to you, spanning each of his palms on your thighs with just enough pressure to set your nerves alight. His fingers venture closer and closer to your inner thighs, thumbs pressing and circling your covered flesh -- inching closer still. 

“Please?” he bites his lip and he knows he’s got you -- he’s all teeth and wrinkled eyes knowing that he’s got you and yet he plays coy. 

You cover his hands with yours, slithering along his strong forearms...and then you both act in unison; he’s reaching for your waist as you grab onto his shoulders, going pliant as you let yourself be handled by him, your legs on either side of him. “You’re such a shit” you sigh into his mouth and he drinks up your smile, teeth grazing and clinking -- can’t even manage to close your mouths in a proper kiss for you’re both smiling widely at the silliness of it all, the rare moment of spontaneity. 

You still have your hips suspended in the air when -- it dawns on you. And you stop, inching away from him. 

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m gonna hurt you” 

He had proven time and time again that he could take all of you, that he could lift you and toss you around to his liking, that he loved you just as you were, but he had never been injured like he had now. Despite the bacta and the treatment and the rest...your anxiety kicked in. 

“What, what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to hurt you...” 

“Then you get on top of me -- _fuck me_. Come on, darling, come here” He pulls your hips down but you relent, and in a lightning flash there’s a dangerous undertone in his eyes -- crystalline green consumed by dark pupils. He snatches your chin and brings your ear to his mouth -- the vibrations of his grave, hoarse whispers like liquid electricity expanding all throughout your body but concentrating right in your core. 

“Stop holding out on me thinking you’ll hurt me, I’m not made of paper, you _know it_. If I’m going to get hurt, let it be from me carrying your weight as you fuck me -- let it be from you riding my cock so hard, so good, that I’m crushed by you. Let me endure the pain if it means I get to see your face when you cum, feel you gush on me.” 

You shudder, your body undulates of its own accord as if hypnotized by currents of energy travelling through you; your cunt pulsing mercilessly, begging you to give in. 

You had had your eyes pinched closed as he spoke and when you opened them your heart skipped a beat. You stare at each other as intently, as tensely as magnets resisting the inevitable union. Your _Starkiller_ , eying you as if you were his next target, only you were not some helpless victim but just as much of a huntress. 

“Fuck me…” he orders, and you slowly, tentatively, lower yourself on him, grinding your hips against his and moaning in relief at the hot press of his clothed, hard cock nestled against your cunt.

Your kisses are all messy tongues and moans poured directly into each other’s mouths. You bask in his contented noises, loved how he would get carried away by his own pleasure and abandon his restraints to unabashedly humm and groan with every lick, every grind; with the way your fingers languidly graze the delicate skin of his Adam’s apple, feel the tight underside of his jaw, his chin... tips dancing through his soft curls, pinching the tip of his ear earning you a sigh straight into your mouth. 

He hauls you to him, tugging at your knitted sweater to reveal your skin, your skin that is covered with goosebumps with every caress. He traces the flesh of your tummy, rubbing circles on your hips and travelling upwards to the curve of your cleavage. It’s a beautiful kind of pain -- you had been starving for him so long that you groan and retaliate by nibbling your way through his jaw, his cheek, up to his earlobe again. That spot was like a detonator to him, making him arch his neck back and exposing it to you for the taking, urging. 

You lick him and bite him and kiss him and grind on him insistently and finally! Finally, finally, finally he’s unclasping your bra to cup your breasts with his palms -- pushing them together, stroking them -- leans in to take one into his mouth and his spit, his tongue, the bite of his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin of your nipple has your throat closing around desperate moans. 

It’s so much, so soon, after having waited for what seemed like an eternity without his touch. But you have time -- the rain keeps on splattering against the view pane, a drizzle turning into a torrent, in tune with your lust. 

You scratch at his scap, firmly locking his head in place to keep sucking on your tits, craving to feel the scratch of his faint stubble in contrast to the plushness of his lips. “Ohhh, Armitage… _yes..._ ” he grins against a mouthful of you, then tours along your sternum with close-mouthed pecks, humming against your skin as he delights in the flavor of your sweat, your clean scent, your soft skin...his tongue dips into each collarbone before sinking his teeth in, up, up to the column of your neck and your jaw, lapping at you like a famished man. 

Your hands are digging into his sides, pulling at his own sweater but being unable to undress him for Hux wouldn’t relent from his mission of imprinting hickies on your skin. Your hands pass under his clothes alternating between scratching at his chest and then tracing light fingers down the expanse of his ribcage, his tummy...one pass along his side has him giggling so you take the advantage to tear his sweater off of him. 

But as you lift your arms, a stabbing pain shoots through your shoulder blade that has you straightening up and away. You must’ve pulled on a tender nerve, and only then do you remember how sore your entire back was from having carried boxes back and forth all week. 

“What is it, darling?”

“I’m just sore, that's all. But I’m okay” You brush it off and try to aim for his lips again but he stops you with a hand on your cheek. 

“Turn around” he adds with a wet, lingering brush of his lips against yours. You cautiously stand up, immediately comforted by his warm hands on your waist hooking on the hem of your leggins and dragging them down along with your panties. He rests his head on the curve of your lower stomach for a moment, unmoving lips on your skin, just resting atop you while his hands are kneading the tense spots on your back. 

You moan at the sight -- your husband, wrapped around you as you massage his scalp. Your gazes meet and you find that his hunger hasn’t left, it’s just dormant, waiting -- piercing you with his icy stare, his tongue marks its way down to your navel to eat you up with open mouthed kisses. 

“Take off your pants”, you add with a firm tug on his hair. 

“What’s the magic word?” 

“Take off your pants _now_ ” you pull harder and he groans at the order; he may have harnessed so much power in his everyday life but you both knew who was in charge of whom in this position. 

He’s turning you around and dragging you to sit on him in a flash. You almost miss the reveal of his cock when he takes off his pants. _Almost_. For you’re rewarded instead with his hot, glistening head nudging at your entrance, slowly, deliberately, sliding right home. 

You’re a symphony of moans, hazed and focused on the heat within as you’re fully sat on him. Such a sweet, sweet relief it is, to be filled and stretched, to have your missing piece back inside of you; two pieces of one, skin against skin when he guides you so that you’re back is fully resting against his chest. 

“Alright?” your heart pounds so viciously that you could swear its beat resounds inside the walls of the cockpit. 

“Yeah...yes, please, Armitage…” you nuzzle the side of his temple and elongate your body like a kitten preening at the attention of its master; one of his hands is locked on your neck with just the right amount of pressure to keep you close without fully choking you, while the heel of the other presses on your pubic bone. 

“Please what?” there they are -- those endearing whistles he made when pronouncing his letters “s”, and every little hair on your body stands to attention. 

“Please fuck me, please Armitage” 

“Move with me, darling” 

With fingers interlaced, you both move, thrusts meeting, gentle thrusts, leisured things, teasing pulses, merely building up a steady rhythm that will escalate soon. But not yet. There’s time, there’s time, there’s time, for the rain keeps on going strong and the fuzzy feeling in both of your guts it’s just settling, gearing up to take the dive and fall, fall, fall down the cascade. He has you trapped by his hold on your neck while pouring sweet nothings into your ear as if he was keeping the fire within at bay -- gently controlling, commanding you to lose yourself in the sensation of his thrusts, distracting you from the path that your joint fingers make to claim your clit. 

“That’s it, touch yourself, darling,” you guide his index and middle finger to rub circles on your clit as he fucks into you. And it’s wonderful and sweet because it’s _him_ \-- you’re with him at last, both of you tangled with one another; but it’s also intense and exquisite even if the pace is not fast nor rough, but determined. And his thrusts are prolonged, as you latch your lips onto his neck, breathe his musk in and brace yourself, for the pressure is building, it’s there, stronger and stronger. 

His hands are all over you, squeezing you, fondling you, adding more and more and more like one adds wood to raise the flames of a bonfire. 

“I’m so close, Armitage, I’m so close” you moan into his neck and feel his lips against your brow, words mumbled against your skin. 

“Let go, darling, come for me, come all over me” 

And there’s lightning outside and the rain pours down harder, louder like the sound of clapping cheering you on, encouraging you as you take a deep breath and let go. The pleasure stretches on and on, long and infinite, tense like an elastic band that stretches and stretches and stretches until it _snaps._

You groan and squeeze his hands tighter because it’s overwhelming, and ongoing and unrelenting, your orgasm lasts and lasts and lasts and you don’t know if it was one intense event or a progression of quick little things, quick little pulses meshing together in this one moment. “Armitage…” you moan against his mouth when you meet his lips in a kiss, “come with me…come with me _now_ , please, please please” 

He’s groaning as he nods, head butting into yours for a moment and you burst out laughing -- laughter that turns into an unrestrained moan when he comes, shooting up his hot load right inside you. You whimper at the sensation of being utterly, exquisitely full -- detangling your fingers to reach and feel the mixture of your juices gushing out of your cunt, dripping down your legs. 

You’re both too content to move so you just lay there in a cloud, so satisfied and so in love, aching muscles forgotten. The rain still falls outside, and his arms are still around you, grip as tight as ever. His breath is slowly recuperating and his ginger locks are dripping sweat but you don’t mind one bit, for his weight behind you makes you feel safe, cherished. 

It’s easy to drift off like that, and you do -- the both of you had been through too much already. 

Somewhere on the ship Millicent has awakened from her nap, and you can hear the pitter patter of her exploration through this space. She’s going to wander in search of her parents, but until then you don’t move. You remain in content silence, like a ritual to greet your new life with peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fun fact: Fest is the planet where Captain Cassian Andor from Rogue One is from -- played by the wonderful Diego Luna, so I HAD to make it the reader's home planet because of reasons lol.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally at the end! I'm so excited to share this with you!  
> Angst, smut and fluff ahead

When the rain had finally ceased, you had hurried to help Armitage and Millicent up the stairs. Hux took on the unpacking and arranging of your belongings while you brought them up within multiple trips. 

He had managed just fine, but one awkward bend had him arching back in pain as a pinch shot through his lower back radiating down his legs in pin-pricks, and Millicent stepping on his feet to scurry away had him grumbling and cursing as he staggered over to the couch. 

As he sits and takes a moment to breathe, he appraises your home. The whole house was made of wood in warm shades of brown with sienna and purplish hues, with tall windows overlooking the Arkanisian trees that bathed the space with abundant natural light. It lacked all the commodities and technology from Hux’s previous rooms aboard The Finalizer or The Supremacy; there was no insulation, but there was a functional fireplace in one corner of the living room beside the corridor that led to the kitchen; the living room was surrounded by actual flimsiplast books, art supplies of yours, lamps and plush cushions. No one would ever guess that such was the home of the former General of the First Order and a Corellian Senator. 

He leaves all the unpacked boxes discarded on the floor and stands with the aid of his cane, roaming around the multiple shelves and drawers lining up the walls of the living room. His hands pass through the wooden surfaces, reacquainting himself with this space that you both created with lots of care into every detail. 

There’s a chest by the fireplace. Wincing with effort, he kneels down and opens it, knowing full well what it held. Your memories, some of them at least. Inside was an old imager and holographs that had been revealed onto photosensitive flimsi -- you still believed in that practice, said that printed images carried much more value than a distorted, discoloured projection. It was one of the things he loved about you; your talent, your utter devotion and passion towards your craft, it’s what had gotten you to your position as Ambassador of the Arts and Culture for the Corellian Senate. 

The holographs were mostly of your wedding day and his heart gives little leaps inside his chest as he goes through each printed frame. There’s one of him; a close up from the shoulders up, with direct light bathing him in contrasting shadows as he stared at the distance, not realising that you had taken the holo; another one of the both of you that you had achieved by directing the imager towards a mirror, him in his uniform and you in a lavender gown, your faces shadowed by the bouncing of a ray of light filtering in from a window. Those had been fleeting moments; back then, you hadn’t had enough time to properly marry -- you even had to kill the man who enunciated the ceremony, for secrecy purposes of course…

He forgoes the unpacking all together and instead gathers the remaining holos and lies back on the couch. As he stands up, a tiny black box falls out from the bundle of things he’s carrying. He lies on his back atop the couch that faces the fireplace and opens the little case to reveal his wedding ring, another possession he had left in your care for safekeeping. 

He puts it on and inspects how it looks in his hand, in its rightful place: a twisted band made of silver oxidized to black, with a thin gold strip keum-booed on the edge. It was simple yet elegant, mirroring your own; the little twist it did on its center symbolyzing your eternal union. It did feel like an eternity of knowing you, in the best way possible; it was as if you had always been there, orbiting around his life. Brendol had been a nasty piece of work but at least he granted him one thing -- the place and time to meet you, all those years ago at that dinner party with former Imperials when you were only children.  
The furthest his mind travels along his memories, the more he’s drifting, soon falling into a deep sleep yet unconsciously thumbing his ring, as if wanting to assure himself that he would be guarded by it while he rested -- as if the silver band would ground him back to the place where he belonged for as long as he’d wear it. 

A while later, when you come up the stairs with the last of your luggage, you find the living room crowded with unopened boxes and stuff scattered around the floor. You almost open up your mouth to bicker but you’re stopped by the sight of your husband, curled in a fetal position on the couch. Your heart fills with sentiment when you reach down and notice how his fist is clenched over his chest and there’s a glint coming from his ring finger, finally adorned as it should. 

You decide to let him be, lightly caressing his cheek before covering him with the wool blanket that lay on a wicker basket near the couch, before retrieving to prepare dinner.  
\---  
“Hux?”  
He jolts awake, snorting back a snore, and you laugh at how he seems all doe eyed and disoriented.  
“I made us dinner”  
He perks up at the smell wafting from the steaming bowls you had on each hand.  
“Soup?” he smiles as he sits up and makes room for you on the couch.  
“Uh-huh, tomato cream, something simple. I ought to run to the market and re-stock the kitchen.”  
“This is grand, darling, thank you” despite being quite basic you knew it was his favorite. A top comfort food, ever since he was a child.  
“You found those?” you see the string of images falling to the floor when he scoots over, and before grabbing the bowl for you he reaches down to stack them neatly back in place.  
“They’re really good, (Y/N), you have a gift. Where’s the rest of your work?”  
“Oh, I managed to set up a dark room here, so that’s been my little studio space. I’ll show you when we’re done unpacking.”  
He hums in contentment and the two of you eat in comfortable silence, surrounded by the warmth exuding from the fireplace.  
However, a conversation was overdue, despite how dreadful it was to bring it up.  
“So...I figure now’s a proper time to talk.” Hux stills halfway through a slurp of his soup and avoids your gaze.  
“Now’s as good as ever.” He’s quiet for a moment, weighing out how to proceed. His eyes are still downcast when he begins.  
“Right after that fiasco that was the Battle of Crait I had had enough. You know how Ren slaughtered Snoke and declared himself the new Supreme Leader? I was going to murder him right then and there, (Y/N), but the bastard was too quick.”  
You don’t utter a word as you listen on, and with a deep breath he finally meets your gaze.  
“I started to formulate a plan to overthrow him. You know I am nothing but a patient. So over time, I Iet him do his thing -- order me around, bring the First Order downhill as he went onto his selfish, personal agenda -- ugh.”  
“In a way, his rash decisions worked to my advantage, somewhat. The more he failed, the more leverage I had on him. And he lifted some weight off of my shoulders by appointing Pryde at The Steadfast, so while he was generally irritating to have breathing down my neck I had the littlest bit of time on my side. I started to leak information to the Resistance--”  
“Wait, you what?” You’re stunned. Out of everyone else that he could’ve come in contact with -- those rats!?  
“(Y/N), please let me explain”  
“How could you!? Of all people, the Resistance!? Why!? After all they’ve done to you and your work, after what they did to me!?” 

Once, as a promise to you, he had vowed that he would rid of the vermin responsible for the death of your family. Your family some time before you and Hux married. You had been visiting Chandrilla when there was an ambush at the Cultural Centre where a gala was being held. It must’ve been a reconnaissance mission gone wrong on their behalf; their primitive ways derived in a messy shootout, an unplanned riot. And it had been Dameron, you recognized him. His shots were aimless and brash just as your family was making it to the exit. In a single flash you were orphaned. 

“(Y/N), it was the only way. When word got out that there was a mole among us I was going to place the blame on Ren.”  
Your heart is madly pumping, leaving your face crimson red for how your blood boiled at the mere thought of Hux interacting with the Resistance.  
“And so what? Did you befriend any of them?” you spit out with more vitriol than what was due.  
“No, no, no, of course not! I used an informant, a middle man.”  
You take a deep breath and try to clear your head. No rational conversation could be had when you were this agitated, still you could only reply through gritted teeth.  
“So what happened?”  
Hux’s eyes plead for you to be apologetic but you could not cave.  
He looks wholly grief-stricken as he continues. 

“I failed. Ridiculously, so. Ren knew that there was a mole but didn’t follow up. By then he was all consumed by his idiotic quest for that scavenger girl. But then when that beast that travelled with Han Solo was captured was when everything turned to shit. Dameron and FN2187 broke into the Steadfast, I helped them escape...FN2187 shot me in the leg and by the time I went to Pryde my cover had been blown. I knew it was coming, I had been prepared for days, never leaving my quarters without my bullet-proof vest. But I figure I was not prepared enough...”  
“I had everything ready -- my escape plan. The exact pod parked in the exact place. But by the time I made it to it I was too weakened. I felt like I was half-dead when I reached you.”  
Merely talking about this makes Hux feel like he had been chewed and spitted out by some gargantuan monster. The last thing he ever wanted was to be perceived as a failure by you, so when you keep quiet, pondering over his words with an unreadable look in your eyes, his blood runs cold. 

“Armitage, you--you’re only human. At least…” You’re rendered speechless, not knowing how to comfort him, too shaken up by his confession. “At least you made it out alive, that’s all that matters. You made it out to me, we’re here. Is--is there any possibility that you were followed?”  
“No, not at all. When Dameron and that traitor broke in, all hells broke loose and no one paid attention. Besides, I had the utmost loyalty of those who helped me make my escape. I could’ve been emperor, you know, I had my people. Had Ren not hoarded all the power to himself”  
His tone hardens at the memories, at the loss of what had been his life’s aspirations, taken from him by a spoiled brat in a mask.  
You see all the hatred pooling in his icy green eyes and you feel for him, so you relent, placing a hand atop his knee.  
“Don’t work yourself over it, over him. It’s all over, what matters is that you’re here alive. With me. I swear you don’t know how much that means to me. Everyday I feared for you, feared that I’d receive news of your death. You’re everything to me--” You were raging mad before but now as you speak your voice breaks and you’re too embarrassed to continue.  
“E-excuse me…” you make a quick exit, grabbing both of your bowls and heading to the kitchen. You leave in such a rush that you don’t even see the tears in Hux’s eyes.  
\---  
After you had stormed off to the kitchen you had bitterly resigned to washing the plates and taking advantage of being in the room to unpack and arrange anything that needed to be set there.  
You huff and skulk your way around the room, grabbing everything with such roughness that you fear you might dent the cutlery. Your mind, your chest, your gut -- they were saturated with mixed feelings and you couldn’t even pin-point the one bit of information, out of everything that Hux had just dumped to you, that had you fuming. 

The mere thought of Hux being in touch with the Resistance filled your bloodstream with venom, wanting to inject it into them for even coming that close; into Enric Pryde and Kylo Ren and anyone that ever thrashed on what Hux had dedicated his life to build.  
In a spiritless attempt of clearing your mind you turn on the tiny radio that sits on the kitchen counter, right beneath the faint yellow curtains that are fluttering with the chill getting in through the window. The radio was a rudimentary thing that only transmitted a few stations but you adored it, as it had been one of Hux’s earlier creations when he first started practising his engineering drawing. He had hated the outcome but you had kept it nevertheless. 

The sounds emanating from it are soulful and ancient, the heart of Arkanis; harps, violins and flutes floating along the room, mixing in with the whistle of the wind outside as it danced with the trees. 

Beneath your anger, melancholy surfaces as you’re carried away by the music. It was the sound of home, even though you were not born here, but Hux was. Your heart clenches with the need to cry, imagining all the alternative realities where he doesn’t make it out alive, imagining this very house, empty. 

You don’t even notice your tears as you keep busying yourself -- don’t notice the figure standing by the entrance of the kitchen, watching you.  
“(Y/N)”  
His voice disrupts you from your own mental vortex; his voice, ever so mellow, and eyes full of mourning just like notes from the lone violin in the background.  
“(Y/N), i’m sorry--”  
“--No, it’s--you did what you had to do, just leave it, Hux.” You try to mask off your sniffing -- but he reaches out from behind, enveloping you in his arms and you’re breaking down as soon as you feel his hold on you tighten.  
“I just--” you hiccup around your words, your sobs, “I just--have so much in my mind.”  
“And I’m sorry to be the one that put you in that state, I really am.” He murmurs right against your head. 

“I’m sorry for having kept you in the dark about all of this. I was trying to protect you. If I told you, you would’ve gone out of your way to protect me and you would’ve ended up getting hurt in the process. I could not bear to lose you, (Y/N). Not you. Say I told you about my plans and you got captured...if you didn’t know anything, then you wouldn’t have had anything to hide. I guess I was trying to balance a lot of things on my plate and ended up hurting you anyway -- couldn’t even pull off my own revenge scheme, go figure.” 

“But you’re here,” you turn around in his arms and look at him through the scalding tears running down your cheeks. “You’re here and it’s all that matters. Let’s just put it past us. I understand why you did what you did, and yes you had a few hiccups in the end but you got out of there. At last.”

You bury your face in the comfort of his chest and if he minds the wet pool you’re leaving on his sweater, he does not utter a word, in fact, he nestles you closer still, with his cheek resting atop your head, surrounding you within his warmth for a limitless time.  
The music on the radio changes to an instrumental rendition of a traditional Arkanisian song. You had heard it before, knew that the song was based off of a poem although you could not understand the language. 

“What does it mean?” your words are mumbled against Hux’s chest, “that song?”  
“It’s called Women of Arkanis” he murmurs; and as the instruments take flight, Hux’s hands travel to your waist to sway you both along with the music, your own palms settling on his shoulders.  
“What does it say?”  
“I don’t remember much but there’s a bit that goes:  
“There's a woman in Arkanis who'd give me a gem and my fill to drink,  
There's a woman in Arkanis to whom my singing is sweeter than the music of strings  
There's a woman in Arkanis who would much prefer me leaping  
Than laid in the clay and my belly under the sod”

You don’t respond to his quiet translation, only gaze up at him; at his eyes as cloudy as the evening outside, at all of his sharp edges softened with the approaching dusk.  
An understanding passes through you and neither speaks another word. It wasn’t needed. You lay your head on his chest as you keep on rocking along the notes, until the skies get greyer and greyer.  
“Can you still speak it?”  
“I reckon I’d have a terrible pronunciation but I suppose so. I can understand it perfectly, but I haven’t spoken it in so long. I used to have a heavy accent though, when I was a kid.”  
“No way!” You can’t picture Hux, ever so posh, speaking as quickly as some of the farmers you’ve heard in the Arkanis highlands.  
“Yes! All of the kitchen staff had it -- my mother had it, and I spent more time with her than I let on back then, when I used to sneak to the kitchen at night. My nannies all had it too and Brendol hated it. Naturally, as I grew up and sought to fit in, I had to lose it.”  
“My, what I would give to listen to that!”  
He laughs as you push him to do an accent for you, laughs and laughs, eyes shut and neck arching back in glee, “No you don’t, you would divorce me”  
“Aww please?” You kiss his smiling face as you keep pushing.  
“No!” He retaliates by kissing you even harder, purely clinking teeth for all that laughter. In the end, he rewards you with a whispered endearment, right into your ear, in his mother tongue.  
After the room has darkened completely and the music fades away, you hug your husband tighter to you. No one would ever touch him again as long as you were near.  
\---  
After the majority of the things had been put away, both of you had taken a shower together-- a proper one, none of that sonic nonsense. Sadly you hadn’t done anything exciting but actually washed each other -- too emotionally tired after a long journey and all that had transpired upon arriving. The time spent together amidst the steam and the hot water was just the remedy needed to calm your joints and ease the remaining threads of the tension that had hung in the air after your conversation. 

With every gentle pass of soapy palms against skin -- soothing over lines and curves, muscles and flesh -- the more your shared anguish washed away. You had remained there under the spray embraced in silence, each of you inside your own heads for a while, until the water started running cold. 

Afterwards, Hux had gone straight to bed while you insisted on checking that every door and every window was locked and shut. In your experience, whenever things started going too good to be true it was but a mere prelude to disaster, so having arrived in Arkanis without any disruption from enemies made you uneasy. You couldn’t believe that after all this time, your married life was just about to begin. No more war, no more political ties, no more pain. Just the two of you. 

So when everything is set in place, you return to the bedroom to find Hux still wide awake, bare save for his pajama pants. The moonlight coming from the window bounced in hues of dark blue all over the room for it hit Hux directly, highlighting him as if he was a living sculpture, with his sharp cheekbones and ivory skin.  
It was calm, save for your anxiety. The rain had stopped and instead you were serenaded by the crickets chirping and the songs of creatures rising with the dew of midnight. 

“All good?” He turns to you and smirks at your figure, looking as soft as ever in your two piece pajamas. Just as you were accustomed to looking at him in uniform, he was used to seeing you in formal gowns, evening dresses -- in full Senator mode. Anything different brought wonder and tenderness to each of you. 

“Yes, everything seems to be in order” you sigh, hints of fear still creeping in your tone. Knowing this, Hux pats his side on the bed, smile growing fonder as you reach him.  
“Everything will be alright, (Y/N). We’ve spent many nights here and nothing has ever happened to us.”  
You lay on your side and nuzzle your head on his shoulder, with an arm around his chest.  
“I know, I know, it’s just--it’s crazy isn't it? To think that all of this is through?”  
“It is indeed” he stares into the distance, as if his life was flashing right through his eyes, a life solely built around the remnants of The Empire -- The First Order; his father, his dead mother, his childhood, the abuse, the solitude, the cries, his rise and fall of power, Kylo Ren and Snoke and Pryde and the damned Resistance. Amidst all of that, you. A friend found amidst the darkness. His companion.  
He turns to you and his smile is genuine and content, not his usual half-smirk or scowl. “It’s exciting though, isn’t it?”  
“That, it is,” you sigh and you cuddle closer to his side, taking his hand in yours. “So what now?”  
“Now we make up for it -- for all the time we spent away from each other.”  
“It was about damn time” You giggle right into his chest, mindful to breathe in the scent of his clean, smooth skin, warmed by the sheets.  
“I say we start right now”  
You burst out laughing at the suggestion and recline on your elbow to properly look at his smug, cheeky kriffing face. It dawned on you how young he really looked when he smiled. You wonder how he looked as a baby, if he had come into the galaxy smiling like he was now, before life had forbade him to do so.  
“Aren’t you tired?”  
“For this--” he lets go of your hand to skim it around your side and you keep laughing and laughing at and the ridiculousness of it all, you had never seen Hux like this. “-- are you kidding?”  
You fake-groan and try to get away from his tickling but he’s quicker, he’s agile -- he’s always been -- and he catches you, pulling you to straddle him. 

“Come on, let me see you” Those playful fingers of his graze the soft material of your pajama top, going under it to feel your skin but not removing the clothing yet -- wanting for you to tease him. “Let me see my wife”  
You bite your lip trying to contain your giggles -- you wanted to kiss that eager look off of his face. One by one you start unbuttoning the shirt while he palms your sides.  
He goes to sit up in one fluid motion but groans when the aching in his lower back acts up.  
“Oh, careful!” You try to hop off of him but he stops you with a firm hold on your side while accommodating the pillows behind him. Once he’s properly supported he faces you and simply stares -- his green eyes now an eerie light blue shining in the dark. He holds your gaze as he slips the fabric of your top off of your shoulders, leaving you equally bare as he. 

He doesn’t do anything for a while but merely looks at you with yearning pouring out of his eyes before sitting up to embrace you, nestling his head on the crook of your shoulder, nose inhaling all of you as if wanting to imprint your musk on his memories forever. The chants of the night creatures get louder while a light drizzle starts to pour, like echoes of Hux’s own emotions flooding up his heart in that moment, his hold on you tightening still as you go to caress the thin hairs on the nape of his neck. 

You remain like that for a timeless moment, before he’s gingerly pulling to lay back along with him, leaving you on top. He had always preferred this position, loved to be totally surrounded by you, renouncing his power to the only person he trusted in the entire galaxy.  
And with the staccato beat of the bugs chirping outside, you kiss his soft skin, from his jaw, the column of his neck from one side, then the other, his collarbones, his chest...limbs going lax and pliant with the attention, head arching back with a sigh of relief. 

That night, you do it again. Softer this time, as if wanting to stay attuned to the calmness of the night. Your moans and breaths are exhaled right into the other’s mouth, exchanging secrets to be kept within the sacred space of the bedroom, in the middle of the Arkanisian woods. In contrast to the rain that is now falling more confidently, there is an ardour in your core building and building as you rock on top of Hux; he feels it, as vividly as you, if not out matching it, for he holds onto your side, squeezes your ass like he’s trying to pull you closer, or hold onto you for fear of falling off the cliff on his own, without you. 

He looks up at you, begging, pleading, and you can’t stand the intensity in his stare -- the heat. You can only ease said heat by kissing him, kissing him hard while clenching your cunt, hoping that’ll be enough of an answer because you’re too dazed and enveloped by him to use words. 

His groans get lower, overcome by the pleasure emanating from your tight hold on his cock, lower still at the wet sounds you’re making as you bounce on top of him, strained and strained as if trying to hold on and prolong the sensations but finding that he can’t, he can’t, by the Maker he can’t.  
“(Y/N), please, I’m gonna cum, please, please”  
“Cum with me, Hux, cum in me, let me feel it” 

You quicken the rhythm of your hips, the strength -- until your legs threaten to spasm with the effort, until your own core is pulsing and pulsing, pounding like a heart seconds before flatlining. Hux’s eyes shot and he goes incredibly still, tensing before releasing one long, loud groan as he collapses back on the bed, his hot cum filling you up and propelling your own orgasm. 

You lay there panting against each other, savoring the aftermath, the aftershocks bursting in your nerves like ripples in the ocean. 

You kiss him as you flop on top of him, mindful of his injuries. 

You kiss him for the longest time, so much that you’re able to hear the sound of the rain slowly dying out and the night birds twittering away. With a pleased sigh, you lay back on your side, with a leg draped around him, hugging him to you, as you softly place your palm upon his face.

“Your saga has ended, darling -- your torture. But you lived on,” you smile, rubbing circles with your thumb along his sharp cheekbone. “Now more stories will arise, stories of us.”  
He’s too stunned to say anything, can only close his eyes in self-consciousness and reach for your hand atop his cheek, grasping it with all the love he could muster by a gesture alone.  
“Promise me something, though” you murmur.  
“Anything”  
“You gotta let your beard grow now that you’re not following First Order standards, please!”  
He snorts and arches back laughing, never leaving your hand. You reach up and kiss the underside of his jaw where his stubble is still faint, but definitely there; you rub your face against him, laughing and laughing away. 

As the night gets a little bit older, and your souls a little more tired, you both drift off to sleep, tangled against one another and hopeful for the future.  
Before, you had been an insomniac, fear-ridden with the image of Hux dying.  
Now you went off without troubles and dreamt of a lifetime together that started once upon a time at a dinner party with two lonely children who found solace within each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very fun for me to write, and so different to what I usually do. I gotta say I'm pretty happy with myself because this is the fastest I've ever updated a story. There's a sequel coming next that's going to explore the origins of Reader & Hux. So when the series is finished, you will be able to either read this from the start to the finish, or begin this adventure with the very last story going backwards. Very star wars-ish isn't it? The order was totally accidental because the more I dwelled on this story, the more details and plot ideas started coming to me. But I'm actually excited about it since I've never really planned for a story in an anachronistic way!  
> I'll be more than happy to know what you thought of this and hopefully you'll stick around to see more of Senator!Reader and Hux! This is just the beginning <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to shout at me on tumblr @theold-ultraviolence ! <3


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